


This is a Story About a Scarlet Letter

by datasymphony



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Album), My Chemical Romance, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Killjoys AU, Killjoysverse, M/M, blurryface and spooky jim will mess you up, but doesnt follow the plot of the comics or album, joshler - Freeform, maybe a lil bit of frerard too idk how in depth this story will be yet, the clique - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-25
Packaged: 2018-04-10 03:01:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4374683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/datasymphony/pseuds/datasymphony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The two wear ski masks in the middle of the desert. Their real faces have never been seen, not really, at least. One of them is rumoured to have a ukulele, and the new word of the week is clique, the clique that people want to join even though it has never officially existed.<br/>Needless to say, the Fabulous Four were interested.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. epilogue: the sun and the moon

**Author's Note:**

> killjoysverse. might continue this but as of right now theres no fleshed out plot. let me know what you think.  
> also, the title is from 'taken by sleep' from tyler's album no phun intended. it'll be important later, trust me.

The two wear ski masks in the middle of the desert. Their real faces have never been seen, not really, at least. 

The one with the brightly coloured hair which constantly changes colour - who knows where they get that much hair dye - has been seen a few times without his mask, according to the rumours flying amongst the zones between hopeful young killjoys, but with red like fire swirling over his eyes like war paint. That’s what they say, at least. Others say his eyes are fire themselves, that they burn with the heat of the sun and strike paralysis into dracs with one burning glance.

The other is an enigma. His mask is black, sometimes white, sometimes red, but rarely, apparently. He doesn’t wear bright colours but then again, nor does the other. His face has never truly been seen - at least, not by one who have lived to tell the tale - and his hands are said to be coated with the darkness of the desert night, shadowed with ghosts of dusted killjoys that strike frozen fear into the minds of S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W exterminators with a slight of dark hand.

Excited crash queens shared their stories in crowded, curious bars of seeing them in passing in the dead of night, walking slowly and casually across the cold desert without a care in the world, the one with wild hair tapping a beat with real, authentic drumsticks - unspeakably rare in both the zones and Battery City these days - while the other sang a distant, haunting song which inspired a mix of hope and fear, and playing a _ukulele_ _-_ another incredibly rare instrument to come across in 2019 - perfectly tuned strums that echoed across the desert sweetly yet so odd and out of place it was almost scary. Rumours of young, naïve killjoys watching on as the two mysterious guys in ski masks and black clothing took down an entire patrol of draculoids singlehandedly, appearing out of nowhere to rescue the stray groups of mere kids in bright colours of defiance who’d bitten off more than they could chew, then disappearing all over again. Terrifying was the one word most commonly used to describe the two, because of their vague but still very high body count that seemed to be on the rise both as a number and as a topic of gossip in zone hangouts. Next was hopeful, strangely enough, and after that was mysterious. News of the two spread like wildfire out in the zones, infectious whispers of mysterious killjoys who never missed and disappeared into the desert like a mirage fanning the flames of their legacy.   
Crash queens call them ying and yang, motorbabies call them the sun and the moon, killjoys call them fire and ice. But they share common names throughout every zone, the same names printed on their files back in BL/i because nobody knows who they were before the analog wars, administered themselves then relayed through Dr. Death Defying’s radio show. Blurryface and Spooky Jim.

Some people laughed at Spooky Jim’s name - who calls themselves _that_ , laughed Show Pony - but not for long, because then Blurryface’s voice had echoed in the radio signal, unusually unique in it’s own way but sounding _very, very_ dangerous. A calling for the few, the proud, and the emotional, in his own words. Spooky Jim had followed suit, his voice smooth and mild-sounding, although it was only too easy to hear the unspoken threat in every soft-spoken word as he called out for the local dreamers and for their clique, for BL/i to stop crushing _what they stood for_.

That had sparked the most conversation. What they stood for. Because it meant they stood for something that opposed Better Living Industries and they weren’t just terrifyingly adept killers driven maddeningly into murderous rampages by the relentless heat of the sun. It sparked hope, rumours of a plan to end Battery City devised by Blurryface and Spooky Jim, rumours that they were sent by the Phoenix Witch herself. The new word of the week was clique, the clique that people wanted to join even though it had never officially existed.

Needless to say, the Fabulous Four were interested.

 


	2. 001: blurryface and spooky jim

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yall the lane boy music video is being posted in 20 mins i think and i am vibrating

Tyler and Josh weren’t wearing their masks.

Of course they weren’t - they never did while they were at home, it was the desert, after all, and ski masks were stuffy and insulating in the scorching heat. Josh lay sprawled comfortably over Tyler’s lap where they sat on the battered, faded red couch, and Tyler was fiddling with the wires of his smooth blue raygun, eyes focused but not really on the gun. He was looking fondly at Josh’s hair, somewhat-faded red strands that were starting to look a beautiful shade of pinkish-orange loosely falling over his gently-angled face and half-closed, warm brown eyes. Tyler didn’t think Josh looked much a killjoy like this, didn’t much look like a man who had ghosted endless amounts of dracs and exterminators without so much of a second look. Tyler wanted to preserve this sleepy, gentle Josh for the rest of their lives together, but was once again faced with the harsh truth that this side of the redhead would only last if Battery City and BL/i was torn down.

Josh was drifting in and out of a half-sleep, dozing comfortably in the presence of Tyler, heavily-lidded eyes hazily and adoringly watching him as he poked at the open wires on the custom-built gun Josh had built for him a few months ago. His face looked youthful and innocent, but his wide, puppy-dog eyes gave away the haunting look of battles fought and barely won with too many casualties. Josh knew it wasn’t from fighting S/C/A/R/E/C/R/O/W or exterminators or any of Battery City. He wanted the look gone from Tyler’s eyes, pushed as far away as possible, but he knew that as long as BL/i ran the strict regime and rules of Battery City, that was impossible because Tyler wouldn’t be able to get what he needed.

The two needed each other like man needed air, like the sun needed the moon or the night needed day. They were always together, inseparable since before the analog wars, even. They knew each other better than they knew themselves, cared for each other more than they cared for themselves, and shared an unspoken promise to live together or die together. There was no in between for Josh and Tyler, Blurryface and Spooky Jim. Everything was _theirs_ , not his and his. Everything they had belonged to both of them as one unit. They had each others back and each others back alone, which was all they needed anyway. Josh was the air in Tyler’s lungs, Tyler was the water keeping Josh sane and living in the harsh desert that was their lives. _You me we us_ , Tyler had whispered softly into Josh’s neck one night, and Josh had hummed his agreement, repeating the phrase like a mantra and sealing the truth of their togetherness like a written contract.

In the day they stayed low in their home in zone 9, hidden away off all maps except for three, one belonging to Dr. Death Defying and the other being their own maps. There, in the place that was once a gas station, they were Josh and Tyler, unbeknownst to the world, not killjoys or urban legends or Blurryface or Spooky Jim. Just Josh and Tyler, Tyler and Josh, together in their own little hideaway, lazing away the days with a uke and a makeshift drum kit. 

In night, however, they pulled on their masks and armed themselves in black clothing, red and blue rayguns removed from their holsters and pulled to their sides. They walked together, arms not quite linked and hands almost touching, to their beaten up impala painted with twin skeletons, their logo of choice designed by a thoughtful Blurryface and approving Spooky Jim. They traveled together, Tyler humming a song familiar to only them as they drove with Tyler at the wheel and Josh with one hand lazily trailing up and down Tyler’s arm while the other tapped out a beat in time with whatever Tyler was humming, talking in gentle tones about anything and everything Tyler wanted to hear and Josh felt like saying.

Somewhere along the way to wherever they were heading for the night, the two changed. Tyler’s eyes glazed and darkened, his frame tensed ever so slightly, mask adjusted just so. Josh pulled out whatever he had found in their most recent escapades that he could use to colour his eyes - be it lipstick, or a stick of crayon and even eyeshadow, sometimes, and swiped it wordlessly, expertly around his eyes, flames flickering to life in the effortless swirls of harsh red. He would coat Tyler’s hands in black Better Living Industries Certified paint, smudging it in with careful fingers while Tyler drove with whichever free hand he had on the steering wheel. Their conversations grew simpler and more loving, short, to the point. ‘You, me, we, us,’ or ‘love you so much’ were repeated like mantras in the chilled night air of the desert as they parked the car behind the nearest dune to their location and made sure their rayguns were live, humming softly with the faint thrum of electricity. Tyler wasn’t Tyler, not for now. Tyler was Blurryface, hands coated with black and eyes icy and focused. Josh wasn’t Josh anymore either, not tonight. Josh was Spooky Jim, eyes licked with flame and hands steady with admittedly trigger-happy fingers. Sometimes there was a point they would cross while they shot down dracs with deadly accuracy; a point where they together slipped into near-madness, dancing around merrily against the battlefield of a war they couldn’t lose, exchanging loving, wild remarks as the body count rose around them. Blurryface would compliment Spooky Jim’s eyes and Spooky Jim would laugh loudly and daringly, a harsh change from the personality of who was under the mask, in return letting Blurryface know that his hands could do with a fresh coat of paint. The dust would settle and they would be the last two standing, static collecting their carnage as they walked around picking choice objects from jackets and raiding cars or long-empty buildings with calm intent.

Then they’d get home. The masks would come off and the ukulele would come out, and Tyler would cry into Josh’s shoulder.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also im introducing the fabulous four next joy


	3. rumours do not always translate to reality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tyler and josh have a home. blurryface and spooky jim won't let that be taken away from them. they have a run in with the fabulous four. the four are as good as ghosted.

“I mean no disrespect, I am simply very perplexed by your ways,” Tyler had sang quietly, one hand running through Josh’s hair and the other fiddling with his uke’s tuning with slender, smooth fingers. Josh had tapped out a slow, simple beat on the hollow wood backing of the ukelele and hummed along softly, almost imperceptibly to the tune of Tyler’s song. The two were curled together on the trunk of their car, basking in the warm yellow rays of sunset which turned Josh’s red hair pink and gold and his surprisingly pale skin a shade of amber. Tyler was squinting slightly against the bright sunset skyline, sky a rare and beautiful shade of pink.

“Josh, you need to dye your hair again, it’s starting to fade,” Tyler said, giving up on singing and instead opting to remove his hand from Josh’s hair and instead strum a gentle C-chord on the uke. 

“I know,” he murmured sleepily in response, sighing and shifting a little closer to Tyler. “I don’t know which colour, though. I like the red.” Tyler grinned faintly, playing a meaningless melody out on the four strings.

“Keep it red, then,” he replied, gazing at the horizon with narrowed eyes to protect them from the glow of the sun, “it looks really beautiful on you.” Josh glanced at him and beamed a dazzling smile which made Tyler’s heart melt just a little more.  
“You think?”

“Of course, Jishwa,” he replied earnestly, watching wispy clouds that were tinged with pink and pale yellow march slowly across the sky, “but you always look beautiful.” Josh chuckled quietly, a honey-sweet sound that rang soft and warm in Tyler’s ears. 

“You’re too sweet to me, Tyler,” Josh whispered, nestling his head into the crook of Tyler’s neck. “Love you.”  
“Love you, so much.”

“What’s that noise?”

The two moved instantly, ukulele abandoned and easily thrown into the front seat of the car through a half-open window, masks pulled from pockets and slipped on soundlessly, hands going for guns even as they pulled apart. Tyler’s face shut down as he adjusted the mask to fit properly around his mouth and raised his blue raygun close to his shoulder, previous loving words dissipating into the warm air, face shifting and twisting into Blurryface’s, jaws clenching slightly and eyes darkening almost imperceptibly. Josh tensed ever so slightly, soft angles of his face and warm eyes melting into the expressionless mask and contorting easily into Spooky Jim as his fingers came to rest on his own sleek red gun. They slid off the trunk, turning back and wordlessly moving together through the back door of their gas station, Blurryface closing it with a soft _click_ behind them. 

The loud groan of the vehicle jittered to a halt outside, sound coming from the front of the station. Spooky Jim took up his position pressed up close to the wall next to the door, vivid red gun held tightly and determinedly to his chest, while Blurryface snuck quietly across to the tiny peeping-hole gap between the wood that boarded up the once-large window of the station. 

“Killjoys, it seems,” he muttered flatly to Spooky Jim, never once loosening his grip on the gun held tightly in his hands.

“Are they coming in?” Jim replied in an equally monotone voice.

“I think - yeah, they are,” Blurry sighed, pulling away from the boarded-up window and ducking behind the empty register, “they don’t know we’re here, though, they don’t look prepared to meet anyone here. Shoot, they don’t look much older than us, even.”  
“So they think this is an empty gas station? They’re coming here to raid?” Blurry nodded his confirmation and Jim sighed, barest hint of Josh slipping through in that weary sigh, taking a shooting stance at his post. Nobody was allowed to _take_ from him and Blurry, or know where they were, regardless of whether they were from BL/i or killjoy origin. Nobody could put them on a map, either. It was too dangerous.

The front door was pushed open with a merry jingle of a bell. The first man to walk in had flaming red hair - brighter than Jim’s, even - followed by a ridiculously short one with slick black hair, lastly followed up by a lanky, youngish looking blond guy who very quickly let out a loud squeak of surprise as the cool barrel of Jim’s gun was pressed into his back, leaving the soft hum of active rayguns as the immediate loudest thing in the room. The first two spun around quickly, guns coming out of holsters at a speed which almost impressed the two urban legends in the room.

“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Blurry chastised quietly, tone dangerously calm. The two paused at the sound, freezing as there was a whirr of Blurry’s own gun flickering into life. 

“Don’t move,” Jim muttered commandingly into the tall blond kid’s back, pushing the gun ever so slightly more into his spine for effect.

“Wait, shit, _Blurryface?”_ the redhead gasped, gun in his grip cautiously raised halfway up against his stomach. Blurry grinned wickedly, smile showing wide and daunting through the ski mask, stepping up and into view from behind the counter.

“You got it,” he praised mockingly, strolling casually over to where the three stood frozen at the door, “how’d you know? Normally they have to see the ski masks first.”  
“I recognised your voice,” he replied, glancing down towards the floor, having the grace to look a little uncomfortable. “You’re a legend, you and Spooky Jim over there.” Blurryface flashed another sunny smile, all teeth, and casually pushed his own gun into the redhead’s stomach. They gasped in surprise, trying to raise his gun against Blurry’s own body. Blurry suppressed a sigh and easily snaked one quick hand out to twist the kid’s wrist into dropping the gun. 

“Fuck, man, what the fuck?” he hissed indignantly, yanking his hand back and cradling it with his left hand in pain while Blurryface casually kicked the dropped gun away, watching it skitter across the dirty tiling into a corner. Jim watched with almost a fond smile. His wonderful Blurryface was so quietly radiating power and he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

“Hey Ghoul kid,” Jim piped up from where he stood behind blondie, “don’t even think about using that gun or you can kiss these two goodbye.” Jim pointed at where his gun was positioned easily into the small of his hostage’s back to enunciate his point.

“How the fuck…you know who we are?” Ghoul’s voice sounded a mix of surprise, defiance and fear. Blurryface hummed his affirmation with a loud and exaggerated exasperated sigh, bringing a free hand to point at the redhead in front of him with yet another smile - although this one was more honest than the last two. Of course they knew who they were, they were _impossible_ not to know. The Fabulous Four had been headlining the revolution stirring in the zones for a while. Every zone runner, motorbaby, crash queen and ‘joy knew them, Blurryface and Spooky Jim included. 

“Of course we know who you are, Fun Ghoul,” Blurry spoke like he was trying to teach a child maths, “and you, Kobra Kid. And the one and only Party Poison.” The smile behind his mask disappeared into a faint frown and his eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Where’s Jet Star?”

“Waiting with the Trans-Am,” Poison replied quickly and breathlessly, glancing back at the way he came. Blurryface’s grin reappeared and he laughed gently. “Of course he is. I wouldn’t expect you to send him to ambush us or anything. Especially not with that afro of his. That hair’s pretty shiny. Hey, Jim, ever considered letting your hair grow into an afro like that?”

“Shiny,” Jim agreed, grinning, “but you know it’s not for me, Blurry. Wouldn’t match my hair colour.”  
“True. Your hair looks _awesome_ the way it is right now. Adorable. _Sick as frick_.” Jim laughed but Blurryface’s gentle smile that had formed while he was talking with Jim suddenly disappeared and he pushed the muzzle of his raygun further into Poison’s stomach with a soft growl. “Yo, you stole Jim’s hair colour,” he frowned and his fingers tightened around the trigger, “what the frick, dude? That’s _Jim’s_ hair colour.” Poison’s breath caught ever so slightly, and he glanced longingly at his gun lying abandoned in the corner.  
“Blurry, chill,” Spooky Jim soothed, “this is Party Poison. The _Fabulous Four_. You can’t ghost him, not yet at least.”  
“I don’t care if you ghost me,” Poison spat defiantly, aimed mostly at the blue gun pressed harshly into his side, “but for the Phoenix Witch’s sake, let Kobra and Ghoul go. I thought you two were supposed to be fucking fighting _for_ the zones, or are you just some sort of Better Living Industries cronies now?” Blurryface hissed like he’d been shot, the first real flicker of emotion flaring to life in his shadowed eyes and he slammed his gun coldly forward into Poison, sending him barreling backwards and collapsing into Ghoul’s arms.

“Shut up, _now_ , Poison,” Jim growled darkly, his soft voice riddled with warning, “don’t forget we can and will shoot you any second. You’re lucky you’re important to the zones, or you’d all be as good as static.”  
“God damn cocky killjoys,” Blurryface muttered, voice venomous and face a mask of blank again, “Better Living Industries can burn to the ground for all I care. Why the frick do you think we’re here? You’re only here now with a gun to Kobra’s back and aimed at your because nobody, and I mean _nobody_ , is allowed to know our location. Did I mention that although I’ve missed once or twice…in my _life_ , my darling Jim here _never_ misses?”

“Oh, Blurry, you do flatter me,” Jim returned fondly. Blurryface flashed another adoring smile his way.

“So, yeah,” Blurryface finished flatly, returning an emotionless glare to Poison where he was situated in the much shorter killjoy behind him’s arms. “I’m afraid you can’t leave here. Say hi to the Phoenix Witch for us, okay? Tell her we’re sorry for ghosting some of those killjoys which were actually making a mark. Tell her we’ll make it up to her, we _promise_.” 

The whine of Blurryface’s raygun seemed a whole lot louder in the room and his eyes narrowed behind the ski mask. Spooky Jim’s almost imperceptible sigh echoed against Kobra’s back.

“Sorry,” he whispered, almost sounding like he actually was.

_Click_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all is not as it seems because blurry and jim are kind of crazy. i'd assume killing a lot of people in a desert would do that do you, y'know? also, i tried to enunciate that josh and tyler are separate to blurryface and spooky jim. they're masks, like the ski masks.  
> also if i don't update tomorrow i wont be able to update for around three weeks oops lol

**Author's Note:**

> chapters will be longer after this one.


End file.
